


You Belong With Me

by AgentHenry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gifts, Kinda, Letters, Little smut, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Meddling Kids, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Secret Admirer, Slow Build, Teddy wants a family, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2704253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentHenry/pseuds/AgentHenry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has good friends, a good job, a good life. And he's okay with that. Teddy is wrong; he doesn't need a man to share his life with, least of all the man he kind of desperately wants. So when the boy sends said man a letter claiming to be a 'Christmas Admirer', it's only natural that Harry come clean and apologize. It's not like he can continue the letters. </p><p>That's just asking for trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Thursday, November 30th

Harry doesn't know why he bothers. 

His life isn't all action and adventure anymore and it doesn't come with a steamy romance that's all fireworks and pent up sexual energy that can't be controlled. But he'll dare anyone to even attempt that kind of life when they have a demanding eight year old to raise alone. The most action he is likely to get now is the occasional big case at work and weekly Sunday dinners at the Burrow. That is how he likes it. He doesn't need the action and adventure with the steamy romance, _especially_ the steamy romance. Because that's all his friends seem fixated on - his disastrous love life, or lack of as they are so keen to point out. Just because they're paired up doesn't mean he has to be. He's only twenty-six for God's sake, he has time. Maybe when Teddy is at Hogwarts and he doesn't have to be there for the boy twenty-four/seven; he'll get through every man and woman in England if it'll make them happy. But no, that's not good enough because that's not _now_.

That is how Harry finds himself on a date one Thursday night. He honestly doesn't know why he bothers voicing his opinions to his friends. Freedom of speech his ass. 

It's not like there's anything wrong with the guy sitting across from him; he's nice looking, with floppy brown hair and light blue eyes that remind Harry of the sky on a clear day; he dresses up nicely without trying to show off wealth or desperately impress him, going for a more semi-casual look with faded jeans and a dark shirt; and he hasn't once mentioned the scar or the past. They talk about the weather and work, Quidditch and their players (and their asses). They laugh and they smile and Harry has a good time, genuinely so. But when they leave the restaurant, even his date knows that they're going their separate ways; they shake hands at the door and leave in opposite directions. 

Because while Harry doesn't need the steamy romance part of the movie right now, he isn't saying that he doesn't want it at some point. He doesn't believe in all that crap about love at first sight; there's no elusive One that a person is meant to be with, who you fall instantly in love with. There needs to be time to get to know a person. Besides, he's so awkward in romantic situations that he probably wouldn't recognize it if it was true, even if it whacked him in the face and screamed at him. 

(Fact One as to why the date wasn't ever going to go anywhere: He didn't blunder through the conversation and horribly embarrass himself like the idiot he's been known to be.) 

But he does believe in _the spark_ , the moment you see someone and everything else disappears and you just _know_ that they could be special. You can't keep anything down because your stomach is so tied up in knots that you're a little afraid of throwing up and you want to hear everything they have to say but understand very little because you can't stop staring at some part of them and _wonder_. They become all you think about the more you know them and can pick them out in a crowded room.

(Fact two as to why the date wasn't ever going to go anywhere: He didn't get any of that.) 

Harry believes in it because he's felt it before. Just once. Technically. He feels it all the time, but it's always around just one man. No one else has ever turned him into such a mess with a simple glance his way or with a smile. ( _God, that smile_.) Not even Ginny; sure, he felt something one might consider close to it, but it faded too soon and talking to her became comfortable, easy, but not in the way he might have liked. She felt like a friend not a partner. 

Though he won't lie, it's probably because he met the guy he wants when he was eleven and has wanted him since he was fifteen. Maybe if he hadn't, he would never know the difference and would be with Ginny right now and they would be something close to happy. 

But despite hating that his guy won't see him the way he wants, Harry won't ever hate feeling this way. The very idea of not knowing what it feels like to be falling so completely in love is heartbreaking. 

Ugh, his life would be so much easier if the idiot just realized he loved Harry the same way. 

Harry let's himself into his empty house, torn between thankful that Teddy is staying at his grandmother's so can't pester him about the date and sad over coming back to said empty house. With Teddy gone, Harry heads toward the fridge in his flat's open plan living room and kitchen area, grabs the ice cream from the freezer and heads to his room. The jeans and shirt are replaced with sweatpants and a raggedy t-shirt and he picks the first horror movie he comes to, putting it into the DVD player before climbing under the covers and eating. 

People need to lead worse lives than him and die tonight. Romantic comedies are always out after a date, he can't have other people happy, and porn is just depressing. They may be paid to fuck, but at least they're getting some. 

Ice cream gone before the movie is even halfway through, Harry settles down under the sheets and prays for sleep to come without dreams of the guy he should have been out with and curses his terrible luck. 

Only Harry Potter would fall for someone destined to become his best friend.


	2. Friday, December 1st

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry seriously needs help.

"So, how was the date?" 

The thud that echoes around the kitchen is to be expected and Harry breathes through the pain throbbing at parts of his head as he rests it against the dining table in the adjoining room. He'd known it would only be a matter of time, but now that it's here, Harry wishes he'd hidden away somewhere remote, void of human contact. Especially where people are named Hermione Granger-Weasley. 

It's Harry's rare Friday off - one of the reasons why he'd allowed the date on Thursday - and despite knowing just how good an idea it would have been to remain locked away in his apartment, floo blocked and wards strengthened severely, he had needed to see Ron. Out of all his friends and family, his oldest friend was the only one most likely to either drop the conversation quickly or not bring it up at all (if Hermione wasn't with them). Everything had gone to plan; the two friends had spent all morning and most of the afternoon on the couch, watching TV, playing chess, and drinking little Rosie's juice boxes. Then, after keeping from lunch as long as possible, had turned to beers with their sandwiches and chatted at the table. It would have been perfect if only the door bell hadn't rung. 

Wiping his mouth with his hand, Ron had innocently gone to answer it, relieved over the opportunity to run to the bathroom for a piss on his way past, though he didn't say so so happily. Harry had thought nothing of it, only nodded along and waited in his seat. Then Ron had not-quite-muttered an 'oh fuck' - which, Harry reasons, should have been his cue to run - just as Hermione came in, bouncing excitedly in her seat and asking him the one question he had no desire to answer. 

"Harry!" she snaps, roughly knocking his arm into his face as she shakes him to get his attention. "Come on, Harry. We're here now, you might as well tell me." 

Still in disbelief over what is actually happening, Harry forces his head up and turns toward the door. His body twists painfully and he almost slides off his seat in an effort to see it properly, and then he focuses on her too-happy face. 

"Did you ring your own door bell?"

Hermione shrugs like it's entirely normal. "I didn't want you to know it was me and find an opportunity to escape." 

That he might not have been here at all is a fault in her logic; he tries to avoid his friends straight after a date as much as possible. Unless Ron told her somehow. He's too afraid to ask her. With no idea as to how to change the subject now that Ron is occupied and he is too freaked out by her scarily good mood to just drop it, Harry sighs into his beer bottle before swallowing the rest at a speed that would be impressive if he hadn't been in this very position before. He relents. 

"It was fine. We talked and we laughed and we had a great time together."

"If it was so great, why are you giving me this information in the same way you'd tell a small child their puppy died?" Hermione counters quickly, grin gone and replaced with a troubled frown. Harry says nothing, only grabs Ron half empty bottle and finishes that, but he doesn't need to talk. Hermione's always been the smartest one; she gets his meaning seconds after asking. "Oh, Harry, no. Not your crazy theory again." 

"It's not a crazy theory," he protests, a little harsher than he intends to be. Taking a deep breath, Harry changes tactics a little. "Crazy maybe, but in a good way. And it's not a theory; I know what I've felt and I won't settle for anything less than that, no matter how nice the person is."

"But," Hermione starts, stopping abruptly. They both know what it is she's trying to let out gently; one shared look between them, her's pleading and his daring, and she's shrugging again. He's asked for it; no holding back now. "But Theo doesn't think of you in that way, if he did he'd have done it already. He's not one to hold back. And I will not let you put your life on hold to wait for him." 

"I'm not putting my life on hold to wait for him," Harry is quick to tell her, knots tangling in his stomach as he does so. Because he knows, deep down, that he's not being completely honest. Though he goes on dates and looks for that connection, he's a little relieved when there isn't one because he is willing to wait. At least for a little while longer. 

"Hey, you know who I will date -"

"Derek is still straight," Hermione interrupts, referring to one of the lawyers on her side of the floor. He's family law, divorces and custody battles mostly, so he and Harry rarely see each other unless he goes to see Hermione and Derek just so happens to be there. Which is just as well really, because they're both pretty sure the entire Ministry, including Derek, know all about Harry's crush. 

"Yeah, we'll see." 

"He's also still married," she adds on unhelpfully. 

Harry gives her a pointed look. "I don't think you're fully grasping how persistent I can be when it comes to things I want." 

His friend's mumbled "wanna bet" isn't lost on him. He just pretends it is. Arguing is not on his list of things to do today. 

"Look, Hermione, I get that you want me to be happy. But please understand that I am," he says gently. "So I'm not with the guy I want because he doesn't notice me, big deal. I'm not sobbing into my pillow like a twelve year old girl. I will meet someone and I will meet them when the time is right, not because I've gone looking every moment or being forced that way. Until then, I like my life the way it is. Me and Teddy are just fine on our own. Okay?"

There are a few moments of silence between the two friends as she considers his words. Harry can practically see the cogs turning in her head, weighing up what he said with pros and cons, before she smiles and nods lets Harry know he's off the hook. 

"But if I see a single thing that shows me you're waiting for Theo, I'll hurt you." He promises to let her, too happy about no longer being forced on blind dates to care right now. "I just don't understand why it has to be him." 

"Has to be who?" Ron asks, coming back into the kitchen. His cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes avoid Harry, as if ready to deny the fact that he finished in the bathroom ages ago and was probably waiting around for the right time to come in in case Harry thought he'd planned anything and talked about payback. It had crossed Harry's mind, he won't lie, but he didn't have proof Ron had ratted him out so he'd let it go. Ron grabs his bottle to take a drink, frowning when it feels lighter than when he left it a few minutes ago. Turning that frown to Harry, who smiles guiltily, he adds, "What did I miss?"

"When Theo walks into a room, Harry gets a horny, awkward boner."

Harry's words, despite summing up the majority of the conversation, comes as a shock to Hermione, whose laugh comes out more like a snort that tickles her throat and hurts her nose. Harry just shrugs. He hadn't decided to make it easy on the man. 

"Why do I even bother?" Ron mutters, going to get another beer. 

***

"So, how was the date?"

The question is back, only this time it's not coming from an excited friend who wants all the happy details to make sure his life is 'on track', but from a disgruntled eight year old who wishes for each night to have all the worst outcomes he can think of in the hour he thinks the dates deserve to have his father at all. This time Harry is happy to answer. 

Stepping into the hallway of Andromeda Tonks' country cottage, Harry grips Teddy by the underarms and pulls him up. He anticipates protests over being carried like a baby, but this time it seems to be exactly what the boy wants because he wraps his arms around Harry's neck and buries his face in the dip below Harry's shoulder. He lets his legs fall limp for Harry to keep him still. 

"It was okay, I'm not going to see him again. Look like it's just you and me for the foreseeable future, buddy." 

"Good," is Teddy's muffled reply. 

"Where's Grandma?" he asks, heading into the living room and maneuvering the boy so that he's across his lap before flopping onto the couch. Teddy nestles down and points to the ceiling. "And how was school?"

"Fine. Are we going to Theo's today?"

"As far as I know," Harry says, confused as to why he would ask such a question. "We go every Friday. It's take out and movie night." 

That's when Teddy jumps up to spin around, eyes wide and looking so distraught Harry's heart breaks enough to forgive the pain in his groin, and what he says allows everything else to make sense. 

"Dad, Theo has a girlfriend and he wants to bring her." 

Oh. Those words are... more or less what Harry expects to hear, if he's being completely, stupidly honest with himself. His best friend is just as happy without a date as he is with one, but the older they've gotten the less time the man has actually spent without one such date. Unfortunately Theo hasn't treated them like Harry has and has seen various people more than once, forcing Harry (and the kid in his lap, it seems) to laugh and smile and pretend to like them at first sight. Even worse, they've been men and women, cis and trans, and any gender in between, and none of them has been Harry Potter. 

Theo's never wanted to bring one to Take Out and Movie Friday before, though. Everything else, sure, from nights out with friends to Sunday dinners at the burrow or his childhood home (depending on if they can force Molly Weasley out of her kitchen and into David Nott's). But Friday nights, just the three of them, is special. It’s practically family night, the one time Harry can pretend they're together without repercussions. 

No wonder Teddy's distraught. This one must be getting serious. 

And Theodore Nott is never serious. 

Teddy bangs on Harry's arm, demanding he say something, but all he can really get out is, "Oh."

“Oh?” For one so little, his temper can rival that of a grown man when Teddy really puts effort into it. Today there is effort. “He wants to bring her to our Friday dinners and all you can say is oh?”

“Would you rather I storm up to him and demand he stop?” Harry asks, more bite in his tone than the kid really deserves. But it's only because that's exactly what he's trying to stop himself from doing. It takes time for his breathing to slow and for his grip on the couch to loosen. There are handprints in the fabric; he vaguely hopes they disappear before Andromeda sees and lectures him on the importance of treating her things well again. He's more interested in Teddy, who's moved from his lap in that time; they stare each other down, the little boy red-faced and making fists so tight his hands are white. Harry gently takes a hand and pulls him forward, opening up his palms and rubbing soothing circles over the nail marks he'd pressed into his palms. “He's not ours, Ted. We can't tell him to stop dating or to not bring them to meet us. He trusts us with that.” 

He's not sure Teddy really understands. His eyes, normally blue like Theo’s because they look like stars at night, are now a deep shade of purple and narrowed tightly, while he bites his lip. “Well, he should be,” the boy finally says. “You just won't do anything.” 

The accusation is clear, and if it had been yelled at him Harry might have retaliated. Grounded him or took something away, even if his decision would have been petty. But Harry forces it all down, because Teddy simply looks confused and heartbroken. All this time Harry had been waiting for Theo to do something, thinking it would be the best way of ensuring Teddy was fine with it and Theo definitely wanted him, when his son had actually been waiting for him to do something. And why hadn't he? 

Fear? 

He doesn't know.

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” 

Teddy shrugs. “Hermione said it was grown up business. So that's why you never told me.” 

“You talked to Hermione?” Harry asks, dreading hearing the kinds of things she might have said.

“Not really,” he says, shaking his head. “Once at the Burrow, I heard her telling Ron you needed to stop waiting for Theo with some crazy theory. I asked her if you liked him and she said it was grown up business. But I watched you instead and I knew, so I watched him and I know he likes you, too. Dad, you have to stop it.” 

“It might be –”

Too late for that, he'd been about to add. He wants to thank Andromeda profusely for coming in when she does, bustling about and turning to them with a stern glare. God knows how he might have acted if the words had slipped out, but the way she watches them has his back straightening and his eyes narrowing. Despite his age and his responsibilities, she still manages to treat them both like small, naughty children and he can never quite help being defensive. 

“Good, you're here. Maybe you can figure out why the boy’s been in such a mood,” she says, hands on her hips and her look turned mostly toward Teddy. He has the good sense to look a little ashamed, which Harry knows means there's been at least one tantrum and a few harsh words in the two hours since she’d collected him from school. 

Andromeda, still unsure of her daughter’s decision to name a seventeen year old boy her grandson’s godfather, would let slip her thoughts on his parenting. He wasn't the very best at discipline, always afraid he'd go a step too far and be seen as the uncle he'd tries so hard to never be like, never wanting Teddy to be treated the same as he did. The older woman says it makes him soft, that Teddy knows how to manipulate him into getting what he wants and acting like a brat. But David, Tonks’ own godfather, once assured him that the little boy was much like his mother had been, complete with a fiery temper that even had Andromeda yielding a time or two. Harry saw that after every argument; Teddy would get into trouble, she would scold Harry, and then she'd go quiet and her eyes would betray what she'd never speak aloud – when Teddy yelled, she missed Tonks. 

He always tries to forgive her accusations. 

Thankfully, she doesn't go there today. Andromeda sees her grandson’s shame and kneels beside him. Her cheek are still pink, but her breaths are calmer, the effort clear. Her hands take his and her smile, though genuine, strains her cheeks and creates more wrinkles. In that moment, she is hopelessly tired and much older than her fifty-three years. The war had done more than just take her family away; it was the only reason she'd agreed to the adoption in the end, but they're never allowed to talk about it. 

The Blacks do not admit to weakness. 

“We don't like it when you're sad, sweetheart, but you getting angry with us stops us from helping you. You know that,” she whispers into his hair. He only nods. 

“Don't worry, Andromeda,” Harry starts, hoping he soothes her mind without causing her worry to turn to himself, “we've talked. It'll be fine.”

It's mostly gone; she watches him critically for a moment, but lets it pass. She cares for Harry, loves him even, but he came into the family after the war and she could never quite let anyone into her heart after it. If she has any other suspicions, she'll send them onto David. 

“Good. Then you should start making your way to our older, but still helpless, Teddy. God only knows what that boy’s gotten himself into without supervision,” she mutters, getting up and walking away with a shake of her head. She doesn't see little Teddy’s eyes darken, misses the clenching of his fists again. 

Harry pulls him close and leads him to the fireplace, his heart racing at the thought of seeing Theo so serious with someone new. And not me. 

“Maybe we'll like her,” he says, waiting for Teddy to sigh and shrug and agree as usual.

It doesn't come. Instead the boy lets out a low growl, a basic animal instinct he's normally good at keeping away except for full moons. And he says the words that Harry wishes he could simply be impressed by, Teddy’s snooping has clearly gotten better, but he's only terrified.

“Not when you see who it is.”

Harry starts to wish his date has gone better than okay.

*** 

The place is too quiet. 

With shaking hands he'd tried to hide – Teddy had scoffed at that – Harry had floo'd into Theo’s flat with the boy and stood awkwardly along the edge of the fireplace, listening. The flat, much like the manor his friend had grown up in, is heavily warded and each door is coated with permanent silencing charms to block out noises when the doors are closed. But the manor is old, elegant, and screams money, even though they're all antiques passed down the generations and not things bought by David or his children. The flat is fairly new, the penthouse in a building David and his third child Iris had bought and renovated a couple of years ago. The people closest to Theo can get into each house with ease, and Harry always gets there to hear laughter, cheers, and arguments, depending on the occasion. Because the doors are always open. 

Almost always. 

The thought of Theo and his new girlfriend needing the doors shut has his legs joining his shaking hands. 

It's Teddy who makes the first move, his hands clenched tight before he yanks open the living room door and screams Theo’s name. It's odd to hear Theo instead of Dadster. Among others, Teddy is conscious of using proper names – not many approved of Harry allowing the Slytherin to partake in raising the boy, even though he was Andromeda’s godson and they all knew Harry had needed the help and Theo had been the only one both able and willing – but together, they're as close as father and son can be and, after the joke of calling Theo Dadster when the man first called Teddy Tedster… well, it's just normal to Harry now. Not hearing it during all this is another punch in the gut. 

“We’re in the kitchen,” Theo calls. His voice is loud and sounds awfully like a question. 

He's no longer used to Teddy using his name either. 

Teddy rushes ahead, no longer yelling, though Harry can make out incoherent mutterings. It takes a moment alone for Harry to gain his strength. Without Teddy nearby to call him a coward and throw him a sad and judgey stare he definitely learnt from Draco Malfoy, he can push aside the nagging sense of despair and being alone forever that Hermione will definitely use to get him to let go of his crush and pretend everything is fine. 

_Because everything is fine._

_It will be fine._

_I hate Theodore._

“Harry, you here?” Theo calls out, forcing him to start moving despite fearing he won't be able to hide how he feels. 

When he gets into the kitchen and he sees her, sadness is immediately overcome by rage. She's always been beautiful, from the moment he'd caught sight of her on the second day of Hogwarts he'd admired her blond curls and pale skin. Now, her skin is golden and her hair is pulled up in a bun with soft tendrils framing her face. The last time he'd seen her, she'd crashed a summer party at Nott Manor, wearing the shortest, whitest summer dress over a bikini that had hardly covered any part of her. Today everything is covered by a dark cashmere sweater and tight jeans. 

She turns to Harry, her smile showing a perfect set of white teeth. Maybe if Harry concentrates hard enough they'll fall out. That'll teach her to come near his family. 

“Hello, Harry.”

He turns away from her, his jaw tight and his eyes so fiercely set on Theo that he barely catches the smile Teddy half covers with his hand. 

“Daphne fucking Greengrass. Seriously?” 

_Mind your language._ Both Hermione’s and Andromeda’s voices ring in his ears; he's too angry to care, but it calms his shaking. 

Theo, rightly taking a quick step away, taps Teddy on the shoulder. “Dude, take Daphne and pick a menu. You know what to order, then you can pick the movie. Your dad and I will be in soon.” 

“If he doesn't kill you,” Teddy mutters, heading out alone. Daphne smiles again, cautiously this time, and follows. She makes sure the door is shut behind them. The silencing charms click into place. 

“Please don't say it,” Theo says without a breath. He releases a long one when Harry says nothing. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to say. None of it makes sense; this is the girl who stalked him, tormented him, told everyone she would marry him even after he begged her to stop. The only person Harry knew he despised more than Daphne Greengrass was Lavender Brown, though even that had dulled after the war. But a few months apart and suddenly things are different? Now he's dating her? Something is seriously wrong and if Harry wasn't buzzing with anger he knows he'd probably see the problem. 

Probably. 

“Okay,” Theo mutters, hands up in defense as he steps forward and begins to explain. “I was in Astoria’s shop about a month ago; we had just had lunch and we were saying goodbye. Then Daphne came in, said hello, and asked about you and Ted and work. I was surprised; it was all pleasant and calm, none of that awkward, intense staring. She'd finally stopped with her ‘plans’ for us. So I answered her, asked about her. That's how it started, then it was lunch, then drinks, then dinner. Nothing else, I swear. And I don't know how any of it after the shop actually came about or why it's continuing, but it's… nice.” 

_It's nice._

Harry feels his stomach turn and his heart drop. 

_It's… nice._

But nice is friend talk. Nice is innocent. Theo is an all or nothing kind of guy; everything is either _fantastic_ or _dull_. Nice is… _nothing_. So maybe Teddy is wrong; Daphne isn't a girlfriend, barely even a friend. Sure, things can progress, but Harry has _time_. He can fix this. 

_She probably realized intense wasn't working and this is a new plan. I can make him see that._

“Please say something, Harry. You know it scares me when you're so quiet.” 

Harry opens his mouth. He tries to say words, he really does. But his mouth is dry and his throat is tight and when he finally does get something to come out, it's not all the pretend calm, [I]I'm-totally-fine-and-not-at-all-going-to-put-a-stop-to-this[/I] attitude he'd wanted so not to upset the man. 

“Daphne… fucking… Greengrass.” 

Thankfully, Theo’s shoulders sag in relief. “I know. I'm slightly afraid.” 

“I hope you're talking to your therapist about this,” Harry says. If he's not… well, he really should be. That's all Harry wants to say, lest something comes up that one of them might regret. 

Theo doesn't answer it. “Come on,” he says instead. “We should get in there. God only knows what Teddy’s doing.” 

He really doesn't want to follow; he wants to stand in the kitchen and go on about all the reasons he and Daphne are a really fucking terrible idea, he wants to fight about it, and then maybe kiss the idiot. But it's not his place. All he can do is make Theo see it and tonight is not the time to start; he's too angry to show reason, which is what he needs to get Theo to listen. Plus Daphne is too near and if there's one thing the Greengrass sisters share, it's how smart they can be when they're mad at you. He doesn't need an angry Greengrass getting revenge right now. 

He needs to be smarter.

Still, when he steps aside for Theo to less the way, he can't help but slip out, “If he scares her away completely, I'll raise his allowance.”

He's tripped up for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize so much for just leaving this story. I wrote bits and bits every so often, but so much just went on in my life and I just couldn't update anything. It'll likely be still be slow updating, but I hope I'll be a little faster and I promise I will finish this eventually.


	3. Saturday, December 2nd

Drawing is therapeutic. 

Harry had been forced into it by his year three teacher; a fight with Dudley and his gang had led to them tattling when a rope on the playground jungle gym had hit one of them in the eye, and he'd been unaware of his accidental magic at the time, so no excuse had been good enough. Fortunately - despite there being no proof of Dudley starting it - Miss Korner had believed most of his side and his 'detentions' had been to release his frustrations. She'd suggested a number of creative outlets before drawing had stuck. His first pictures were typical seven year old messes, black and reds scribbled over stick men versions of an injured Dudley when he needed to vent. But once the detentions were over and she'd given excuses to other teachers for him to stay inside whenever he'd needed to get away from his cousin, he'd found her prompts a nice way of inspiring his own creativity and giving him a focus that didn't leave him bruised, in tears, or shaken with rage. 

When he'd been told about his family and Hogwarts, learning about magic had become his new interest, and then Voldemort had become his priority, so drawing had been rare, used when he'd needed a serious distraction and remembered it helped. It had been work that had brought it back; during his second year in Auror training, he'd sat with a traumatized young woman who'd witnessed something she'd been unable to put into words. Drawing it with her had been a long shot; she'd reminded him of himself when his own emotions had been too strong for words, but that was the only similarity. He hadn't expected her to take to it, or the permission of the Head Auror, Head of DMLE, and the Minister to make it a larger part of his work. 

Now, six years later, Harry certainly has his own cases to work on as a Crime Scene Auror, but most of the files on his desk are from other teams, asking for his sketches of the scene or to schedule interviews with witnesses to work on suspects' faces. They consider it a specialty and helping victims and witnesses find their voices again is certainly rewarding. He can't deny his secret favorite part of the job to himself, though - specialties within the department have a slightly higher rank than juniors and even some seniors. They get their own offices and can sit in on meetings usually reserved for the Head Auror, department head, and seniors being assigned cases. And he got his before Draco Malfoy - that's always a win. 

Unless he's brought in or finds his own urgent cases, Harry can usually work on things at his own pace and manages a relatively easy nine to five schedule that allows him to take Teddy to school in the mornings and pick him up from his grandmother's after they've spent time together in the evenings. It can also mean taking cases home and classing it as having weekends off. Been called in so quickly this Saturday afternoon was uncommon enough that Harry needed to bring Teddy with him, but worth it once Draco had seen the kid and dropped whatever excuse he'd come up with for needing Harry's help. 

The three of them sit together in the smallest of the three conference rooms, the office Draco had claimed before he'd received his official one and honestly still prefers. Left to his own scribbles, Teddy is content in the corner, leaving Harry to go through the notes on Draco's case with him. With an eight year old girl still missing after twenty-six hours and the only witness being her five year old sister, time is precious. He's scheduled to talk her this afternoon with her parents; until then they're going through the crime scene, giving Harry a chance to draw the park and all the exits the UnSub could have taken to create a theory of what happened. There are too many variables for Harry to feel reassured now that they can find the girl - he needs to talk to the sister. And, though he won't tell, he's looking forward to drawing the bastard. He'll help Draco get him, yes, and he'll make sure the little girl waiting for him will know just how much she helped, but he mostly wants an outlet. Drawing a map isn't doing much to control his burning need to break anything in his vicinity. His thoughts constantly come back to Theo and his new, twisted relationship with Daphne Greengrass, and being around Draco is the worst situation he can be in, with his wife being Astoria Greengrass. 

Drawing is therapeutic. He needs it right now. 

Out in the hall, a familiar laugh bounces around the walls. Teddy's head snaps up and away from his picture. He starts to smile, only to find Harry and drop it, as if just remembering everything they'd talked about last night. He goes back to what he's working on, coloring intensely the closer Theo gets. 

Yeah, he definitely needs it. 

***

All anger at Theo disappears the moment Harry steps into Stephen Odell's office and finds little Holly Bryce. She's tiny, with her arms wrapped around her knees, which she's pulled into her chest. Her blond curls hide her face, but he can still hear each sniffle. Harry sits on the coffee table across from her; Stephen will let it go so a little girl can keep her space. 

"Hi, Holly. I'm Harry, I'm here to help you remember the bad man who took your sister." 

At his words, she pulls her head up and red rimmed eyes find him between fallen hair. They maintain eye contact for half a second, and she lets out a sharp squeal and buries head. Fresh sobs escape her. 

"What's wrong?" her father asks, rubbing the little girl's back while her mother holds her tight. "She wasn't like that before, she even let Auror Odell carry her in." 

Harry gives them a small smile and turns to Stephen. He's a big man; thick biceps show through his shirt and, at six foot three with the widest shoulders Harry's ever seen, he can demand silence in a room without needing to utter a word. Suspects fear him easily. In reality, he's one of the kindest men Harry's ever known, unless you piss off one of his own children - something Harry has done at least once with all four of them. Other children don't know the fear grown ups can see, because they have no need to see it. 

Stephen nods, letting Harry find a way to keep going. 

He turns back to Mr. Bryce and takes a breath. "She's afraid of me because I seem to remind her of the man she saw take Kelly." Holly sobs again. "It'll be fine, we can get through this once Holly is sure she can trust me. I was just a bit of a shock."

"Even if Holly feels she can't do this now, she's just given us somewhere to start," Stephen promises them. They don't need to know that it's still fairly slim, but there are offenders on file that they can start with, which may lead them somewhere, so it's not yet hopeless. 

The parents keep her close for a little while longer, letting their daughter cry until she's back to being almost silent. With a nod, Mr. Bryce pulls back a bit and Mrs. Bryce pulls Holly onto her knee. 

"I know you're scared, baby, but we're safe here," she murmurs into the girl's ear. "This is Harry Potter. We're not afraid of Harry Potter. He saved the world, now he's going to help save Kelly. But he needs to help him, baby. You can tell him where to start." Mrs. Bryce kisses Holly's hair, tears running down her cheeks as her voice cracks. "Wouldn't that be amazing? To tell people you helped Harry Potter save someone?" 

Harry tries not to flinch each time his full name is mentioned, every one forcing forward memories of cold nights, terrified dreams, and wondering if he'd live another day. It does him no good to remember the bad times, nor does it help to wonder if Kelly Bryce is thinking the same thing right now. He keeps his mouth shut instead of insisting they don't say save. Find is better; even if they only find a body it's closure without having first raised hope. Search for is the best from a legal standpoint; it lets people know the Aurors are doing everything they can, without making promises they might not be able to keep. 

Stephen would have said that. He would have given them just enough hope in Harry and Draco to let all of this happen, but warned them of their worst outcome. They still need to hope, though, deep down. He'd want to do the same if it was Teddy. 

Finally, Holly Bryce looks up. "How do I help?" 

Harry smiles, a little wobbly, and prepares his pencil and sketchbook. "You tell me everything you remember about him." 

*** 

Two hours he spends with Holly and her parents before they're both ready to give the sketch to Draco and let him start his team's search. Then it's another thirty minutes of talking with her about how good a job she'd done. By the time they leave and Harry's ready to take Teddy home, he's all but forgotten about his spat with Theodore. 

Until he steps into his office and finds his son sprawled out on the couch with his head on Theo's lap, snoring. 

At least he can't shout. 

"Why are you in my office?" Harry asks. 

On a normal day, Theo's eyes seem navy blue at first glance, but when you look closer they seem to sparkle in places, reminding you of stars on a clear night. But when he's angry or something troubles him, that sparkle disappears, leaving you alone in the darkest of nights. Harry had told him that the first time they'd ever gotten properly drunk together, when the war had barely ended and it had been his only source of comfort. 

Before, Harry could count on one hand the times he'd been forced to endure the dark. 

Now it was six. 

"I wasn't going to leave our kid alone in the conference room while you worked and that room is hardly a good place for him to sleep," he snaps. "It's not even four in the afternoon, why's he so tired?" 

"Why didn't you take him home?" 

Theo frowns, as Harry's the dump one. "Because, despite loving him and being there for him and essentially everything that makes a father, there is only one name on those papers. I wasn't going to just take him when I couldn't tell you first." 

The man's anger fades as he talks, his voice not quite breaking with sadness, but close enough that Harry just can't hold onto his own anger. Theo can no more control how feels about a person than Harry can, and to hurt him because of it is unfair, going on cruel. It's not like he ever did anything about his feelings. 

He focuses on Theo's reasoning for a second. It was true in the beginning, when Theo was simply helping him with a toddler. But even that hadn't lasted; there was no one Harry trusted with Teddy more, except Hermione, and everyone else saw everyday how much Theo loved the boy. Legal or not, real or not, he's a great father and all he has to do is tell someone to make sure Harry knows they're no longer in the building if he there's no reason to keep Teddy here. 

Harry remembers the night before and sighs. 

"You tried, he wouldn't go," he says at last. Theo doesn't respond, but he closes his eyes and takes a deeper breath than normal, so Harry knows he's right. "He's exhausted, because he kept getting out of bed to tell me how much he didn't like you and Daphne together."

He can't keep that quiet; Theo probably knew how the boy felt already. But Teddy had also let slip a few words about Harry, too, and the man definitely doesn't need to know that. It'll only demand more questions. 

"But don't worry, you two just seem more serious than he's seen from you and you know he's awful when it comes to change. He'll come around and I'll keep talking to him about it until he does." 

There's a bit of black still around Theo's pupils as he frowns, but otherwise that sparkle is back. Harry shakes it off; no doubt Theo is wary of Harry's sudden want to be supportive, but willing to hope both he and the kid will come around eventually. 

Eventually. 

It's a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my God. This took forever, I'm not gonna get into why, because most of it is... really depressing. But it's here; I was bored at work and thought screw it and wrote it and here you go with all my sorrys. I can't promise I won't disappear for periods of time again and again, but I have already started chapter 4, so the next updates look promising. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Thank you so much if you're still reading. 
> 
> Sam.
> 
> P.S. Stay tuned for Draco-esque information next chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how this came to be. I just know that it's set in 2006 (each chapter will be a day leading to Christmas, so I checked the calendar and everything), I aim to finish it in December (but I probably won't) and Harry has a lot of thoughts (mostly dirty). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy. 
> 
> Sam.


End file.
